


Ascension, From a Certain Angle

by Tandirra



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Developing Relationship, M/M, Unhealthy Relationships, is loki into this? does he know? no
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-14 21:48:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13016841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tandirra/pseuds/Tandirra
Summary: It's time for Loki to cement his place at the Grandmaster's side, collateral damage be damned. Now if only his plans would work out the was he expects for once.





	Ascension, From a Certain Angle

**Author's Note:**

> back at it again with this nonsense

Loki watched the Grandmaster's wide eyes shift through different stages of delight as Loki smiled at him from across the room, grin just perfectly teasing. Doubling down on his stare, Loki fluttered his eyelashes as he leaned back and sipped his cocktail, exposing a bit more of his throat to the Grandmaster’s gaze. When he found the olive in his drink, he popped the thing between his teeth.

Though he couldn't hear the Grandmaster across the crowd and thrumming bass, Loki did see him grin wide, eyeing Loki appreciatively. A look that Loki returned.

Wooing the ruler of the filthy planet called Sakaar was almost laughably easy. It didn't even take an expert’s intuition to understand what currency the Grandmaster dealt in. And while Loki had little inclination to actually  _ deal _ , he was a marvelous fake. Sliding his way up the Grandmaster’s inner circle had been quick fare; a few well placed words and the lower ranks fell upon each other like starving wolves. The occasional swagger in his step when the Grandmaster was around to get himself noticed. Even devaluing the Grandmaster’s current favorite doll; a golden woman with a waspy personality who was fiercely protective of her coveted spot, was not near as impossible as Loki had anticipated. It had taken him only a few days to find a place he felt comfortable closing his gap.

The worst of it now came in how brazenly Loki was willing to pursue the Grandmaster’s favor. Swallowing his pride to faux-present himself to the obviously mad creature was not the most ideal of situations but Loki managed. And it's not like the Grandmaster was unattractive. 

He could do much worse. 

At least, that's what he told himself as he traded manufactured hunger with the Grandmaster from afar. After an agonizing moment of wait, the Grandmaster leaned forward, beckoning him with a finger.

Triumphant, Loki rose and composed himself. He flattened his borrowed  _ (stolen)  _ Sakaarian clothes and let himself slip into the saunter that he knew the Grandmaster adored. Approaching the Grandmaster’s groupies was an ordeal unto itself. Enduring their scrutiny, some more scathing and verbal than others, Loki didn't take his eyes from the Grandmaster.

“A _ hem _ ,” the gold woman, Loki wasn't sure if she were painted that way or born naturally, stepped in front of him. She placed a long blue nailed hand on his chest. “And where do you think you're going?” Loki begrudgingly admired how little she seemed to care for codling his feelings. She hated him. She made it clear.

The honesty was refreshing.

And nothing he shared. Smiling brightly at her, much as he wanted to break her wrist for touching him, Loki dipped his head. “I  _ believe _ I was summoned.” He made few attempts to hide the smugness in his voice.

“Yes, Kira, he was,” the Grandmaster piped up genially, breaking their little standoff. “Let him through.”

The woman's face slipped, Loki saw fear crack through her anger. Though quick as she turned, the emotion was gone and replaced with an oversweet smile. She bowed Loki forward. “Then, master, you have a guest. Ah… Lackey was it?”

“Loki,” Loki corrected, not looking at her. He had eyes only for the Grandmaster. That mistake was the woman's alone; she seemed always more involved in keeping others from her spot than she was with the one keeping her there. It was an easy to exploit failure. 

He ignored her huffy silence, stopping paces from the Grandmaster, who extended a hand. Loki took it, brushing a kiss across the surprisingly soft, warm skin, never breaking eyes with the Grandmaster who seemed utterly delighted by his tact.

When Loki released the hand, the Grandmaster patted the couch beside him. “Sit, sit.” Loki did, smiling; though he was sure to keep his body close to himself. A tease only worked if it stayed that way. “I've had my eye on you,” the Grandmaster mused, inspecting him without a hint of shame.

“I've noticed.” He had. Loki knew he could have secured this spot the day he'd been brought in front of Sakaar’s ruler, had he been willing to take drastic measures. But he had standards, so he'd waited and planned.

The Grandmaster half giggled. “Cheeky!” He scooted closer. It took all Loki had not to laugh; this was too simple. “So,  _ Loki _ , would you like me to buy you a drink?”

Faking flattery, Loki cocked his head. “I'd love that.” Loki waited while the Grandmaster inspected him again.

“Mmm, not dressed like that.” At the Grandmaster’s words, Loki swallowed, his mouth going dry. He had expected the ruler to play more of a game than that. Before Loki could manage a response, the Grandmaster winked, clearly catching onto his surprise. “ _ Ha _ , I like that thinking. No, I- ah- mean my tailor has new work. Come, come.” The Grandmaster rose and Loki followed, relieved but sure not to show it. “Kira, I'll retrieve you later, doll.”

Loki left the woman with a dazzling smile to match her outright horror.

Walking with the Grandmaster was a strange thing. The eyes that had previously followed Loki on this planet has been hungry, mostly; they'd been easy to ignore. Now though, the judgement was inescapable. Everyone they passed stared at Loki, he saw their opinions bare in their eyes, their doubts, their fears, their distaste. After hiding behind fake skin for so long the stares unsettled.

To ward them off, Loki kept his face turned towards the Grandmaster, who absolutely adored talking. “You know, you caught my eye soon as you were brought in.” Loki nodded, feigning interest. “I'm an excellent judge of character and talent, that's why I'm… well, here! With my own wonderful little planet. And all of the… friends I've accumulated.” Poking Loki's side with a finger, the Grandmaster chuckled. “Yes, I find all the most delightful people fall through my wormholes.”

As they a passed by a window displaying a few such wormholes, Loki pondered the use of possessives. The Grandmaster had a preference for possession, so perhaps it was merely a figure of speech. But on the other hand, whatever the Grandmaster was could possibly possess the strength to create such things. Either were distinctly plausible. And either were disconcerting.

“I can tell from the moment I meet someone how they can fit in on this little utopia of mine. That's how good I am. Of course, if I can't I have other measures to find out delightful little secrets. But that's cheating, I only do that when absolutely necessary, it ruins the ah- fun, see.” The Grandmaster chuckled. “But while I love all of my friends, I pity them. The people they leave behind, and all. Very  _ unfortunate _ . Heartbreaking even.” He continued, sounding mostly insincere. Taking Loki’s elbow, he guided them around a corner. “Here we go.” The room they entered was decked to bursting with fabrics, Loki could smell the leather above the pleasant aroma of vanilla.

Despite himself, the luxury of it all brought Loki a smile.

Something that the Grandmaster picked up on as he threw his arms wide. “The finest cloth and such you'll find… just about anywhere. Pick something, darling.”

Noting the pet name, Loki smiled sweet. That was nothing if not a good sign. “You are too generous. I cannot even imagine where to start.”

As he'd hoped, the Grandmaster took his arm. “I'll help.” It was impossible to make a wrong choice if guided. Toying with Loki's green and black ensemble, the Grandmaster “ _ hmmm’d _ ” and shook his head. “No, that just won't do. Black is- well you do look  _ good _ -” he conceded slyly, “but it's just too formal. Who needs that?” Loki nodded obediently, feeling vaguely insulted. The Grandmaster didn't notice. “You need something…” The Grandmaster led him past an array of colors, including the greens, finally stopping at a pallet of blues. “I think… you'd look quite nice in blue.”

The statement coaxed a twisted laugh before Loki could stop himself. “You have no idea.” Composing himself, Loki let his eyes flick to the Grandmaster’s own wardrobe, to the blue on his lips and around his eyes. “I'll see what I can find.” Blue was a status symbol. And perhaps also a claim.

“You do that.” The Grandmaster followed Loki's searching gaze with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows.

Running a hand along a navy swath of fabric, Loki revelled in its smoothness. Strange and dangerous as the Grandmaster was, he at least appreciated fine things. Loki could work with that.

As he searched, the Grandmaster lounged on a nearby couch. Loki felt the creature’s gaze firmly on his back in a way that made heat rise to his cheeks. Safe in the fabrics, Loki swallowed his pride and made a show of himself, bending low to rub a hand against some leather. He heard the Grandmaster hum appreciatively. “So, Loki, what about you?”

“Hmm?” Straightening, Loki turned briefly to give the ruler a questioning smile.

“You leave anyone behind for Sakaar?” Loki's heart skipped its rhythm. “I mean… anyone special.” The Grandmaster’s grin was hungry as it was playful.

Clearly the right answer was  _ no _ . And Loki didn't even have to lie to reach it. “I didn't really have the luxury.” He said, half turning and moving onto a royal blue thing. There was something nice about it. “Too much on my mind.”  _ And I was a murderous deadman, a traitor, and a monster, but who’s counting, _ his mind snidely finished the statement. Loki grimaced momentarily into a sky blue swath of fabric, batting away the thoughts before he turned to watch the Grandmaster’s response.

Making a disbelieving noise, the Grandmaster shifted in his seat, leaning forward. “Really? Someone pretty as you?” The flattery brought loathfully genuine blush to Loki's face, this time he didn't try to hide it; knowing the Grandmaster would appreciate the appreciation.

“I speak the truth.” Loki pulled out the royal blue fabric, holding it up. “What do you think of this?”

Chewing on his bottom lip, the Grandmaster nodded. “Good, good.” Unsure if he was commenting on the color or Loki's words, Loki merely smiled. Rising, the Grandmaster closed the space between them. His gaze lingered on Loki even as he felt the fabric. “Yes, I think. We can make something nice out of this.” He turned, hand brushing Loki's wrist and lingering with precise deliberation. “Just put it on the couch. Perhaps some leather next… you seem to have a preference.”

Returning to the rack of leather quickly, Loki waited for the Grandmaster to make his next move in their little dance. He did, moving to Loki's side and sliding a hand to the small of Loki's back. “So, if you don't have someone special… then how long has it- uh- been? Y’know, if you don't mind me  _ asking _ .” He laughed to himself, a manic sound.

The abruptness of the question shocked Loki into stillness, hands still on a pale blue leather swatch. The Grandmaster was extraordinary in many ways, apparently that included an extraordinary lack of patience or shame. Knowing he had to speak, Loki quickly weighed what would be the best answer, feeling the heat rise in his face as he did. “It has been… a- a while.” Attempting to dispel his discomfort, he plucked a deep teal thing from the bottom row. As far as teal leather went, it wasn't terrible. “As I said, I've just been busy.”

The Grandmaster made a sympathetic sound. “What a pity.” Loki hardly dared breathe as the Grandmaster's hand moved from the small of his back to his hip, slipping under the thin fabric of his shirt while the other hand settled on the opposite side of his body. Loki weakly noted the power barely concealed behind the hands and how their warmth soaked into his body. “I'm sure you'll find a solution on Sakaar,” the Grandmaster muttered in Loki's ear, voice suddenly husky and low.

The sound thrummed through Loki's body and made him shudder. He hadn't lied in his answer and the way his stomach coiled hot firmly reminded him that. Gulping, Loki smothered the feeling; he was  _ not _ some blushing, fresh maiden, certainly not for this creature. Pulling away subtly, feeling every second of the Grandmaster’s fingers sliding off his skin, Loki plucked the teal leather he'd been inspecting from the rack. “I like this one.”

Surprise flashed briefly across the Grandmaster's face, though it was quickly replaced by a kind of mischievous delight that let Loki know he'd guessed their game. Still smiling at Loki, he took the leather. “I see. Yes, absolutely delightful.” With the leather picked, he clicked his tongue and inspected Loki again. “Perhaps some accents.” He held out an arm, which Loki took at a safe distance. 

They ended up surrounded by golden fabrics. As he scanned the rows, the golden glittering stuff caught Loki's eye. Something ached in his chest. No, not real gold;  _ too much like As-- _

Loki turned on heel, swooping towards the less metallic yellows. He alighted on a pleasant color, almost marigold. Rubbing it between his fingers, Loki sighed away the tightness about his lungs. “This.” He needed out of this room; it was suddenly disconcertingly hard to breathe. 

“Ooh,” the Grandmaster piped up, “fine choice. I think that would look  _ delightful _ on you.” Glancing around, the Grandmaster frowned. “Now if I could just find my tailor they can pick out any more accents; we’ll get those measurements and--”

“I know them,” Loki interrupted quickly. He had  _ no  _ intention of letting the Grandmaster oggle him before his position was secure.

“I- oh- ah… alrighty.” Surprised frown returning too quickly to a smile, the Grandmaster whistled. “Sophisticated then, aren’t we? Someone important?”

Smirking, Loki shrugged and kept the Grandmaster guessing. “Something like that.”

Gaze lingering on Loki’s curved lips, the Grandmaster nodded. “Mysterious.” He leaned forward, drawing closer.

Ignoring the anxiety turning his stomach and reminding him what a poor idea this was, Loki watched the Grandmaster with half lidded eyes. “You could call me that.” The Grandmaster was a hair's breadth from him, Loki could smell the alcohol on his breath. The sudden scratch of the Grandmaster’s nails against his hip bone made Loki bite his tongue as his body shivered. He dared not glance down as the nails traced thin lines that he twitched into without thought. Loki forced himself to breath even.  _ Damn his body, this was not-- _ It was closer than he'd been to someone in years. It would be so  _ easy _ to close the gap.

They stayed like that a moment longer as Loki fought the urge to slap the hand away, or worse, give into it. He had a plan and damn his body he'd stick to it.

Then Loki pulled back, putting a good few steps between them. His rush of lightheadedness passing, Loki smiled coyly at the Grandmaster and spoke. “Your tailor?” That his voice didn't break surprised him.

Blinking rapidly, the Grandmaster took a long silent moment to watch him with narrowed eyes. Loki hoped what he saw in the ruler’s eyes was merely frustration at his tease and not true anger. “My… tailor. Right. I'll find them. Just…” waving his hand absentmindedly, “tell me the measurements I'll let them know.” He lay a hand against Loki's chest, tapping his fingers in rhythm with Loki's heart. “You- you go. Go… mmm- I'm having a… party tonight. You'll be there.” It wasn't a question.

Though Loki pretended to take it as such. “Of course, of course. I look forward to it.”

“Yes,” the Grandmaster murmured, eyes still narrowed. “You will enjoy it, I  _ promise _ .”

Leaving what was unsaid in that promise without comment and simply listing his measurements, Loki brushed his lips against the Grandmaster’s hand once more and swept from the room with a last coy smile.

Finding solace in an empty room, Loki slumped against an embossed wall and groaned. “Oh Norns, what am I  _ doing?” _

He got no answer. 

Nothing about this was ideal, not this planet, not this position, not how  _ nice _ it felt when--

Sucking in a steadying breath, Loki banished the thought.  _ It just caught him off guard, that's all. It's just because he hadn't--  _ “ _ Shut up _ already,” he muttered at himself. Remembering, rather unwillingly, how often his love for trinkets and powerful things had left him compared among his not-friends to a magpie, bird of shiny frivolities, Loki flushed. It was annoyingly fitting as his mind conjured the image of lounging in that gold robe.

Pressing his hands against his eyes, Loki wishfully imagined he could hack the disobedient part of his brain out with a knife. He hit the floor ungracefully.

He knew what the Grandmaster wanted. And he didn't-  _ he didn't, truly damn it all- _ much wish to reciprocate. Feeling some unfortunate pleasure at the Grandmaster’s presence only complicated things. He wasn't some open-legged whore. He  _ didn't _ deal in sex and pleasure. And despite himself, it was just a deal, protection and safety in exchange for-- It would be frustratingly easy to fake if he had to. No matter, it would be faking.  _ It would. It had to be. _

_ He could do worse,  _ a familiar mantra reminded him.

Hissing a sigh, Loki composed himself and let his hands fall into his lap. He stared blankly up at the pale lights brightening the room. He had no business being this aflutter over a simple touch. It was ill-suited for a king-  _ even an imposter one-  _ so his mind finished helpfully. He already had the Grandmaster hooked at a safe distance, there was no need to close that distance. None at all. But if--

Not letting that thought finish, Loki rose. It'd do no good sitting on the floor like a child. He had a party to prepare for. He needed a shower. He needed a drink. He needed to be doing  _ anything _ but sitting on the ground thinking of the Grandmaster’s nails against his skin.

Fleeing to his given quarters, Loki put the thoughts aside.

Later, as he stepped out of the shower smelling of the flowery soap provided to him, Loki spotted a nearly folded set of clothes laying on his bed. Putting aside the concern that someone had been able to slip into his room unnoticed, he recognized the teal leather instantly.

Unfolding the outfit, he eyed the finished product. It was  _ very _ well made. Whoever the Grandmaster's tailor was, they were a fine worker. Tracing purple leather intertwined with the blue, he steeled himself. 

The thing went on easy-  _ it would come off easier with the right spell-  _ his mind managed before he smothered the thought. Running his fingers over the inlaid precious metals on its bracers, Loki felt his stomach twist. This gift was  _ exceedingly _ fine; such generosity no doubt meant the Grandmaster expected an equally giving reward in return.

Lowering himself to the bed provided to him, Loki sat cross legged upon it and meticulously braided thin strips of his hair, letting his thoughts turn only to the process of that work. Separate. Over. Under. Around. Repeat.

There was something soothing about it. A small scrap of familiarity in this world so devoid of it.

But the time came when he knew he could no longer avoid the Grandmaster. Picking himself up, he went to find this party.

There were more eyes on him than usual and he practically felt his skin begging to crawl out of the outfit, despite how truly well it fit. Blue was a claim, he'd been right about that. And now he draped himself in that claim. It was positively humiliating. Or, it  _ should _ have been.

A small, loathful part of his brain had yet to hate the Grandmaster’s appreciation.  _ At least it was something. _

The party was, if possible, more hectic than any Loki had already taken part in. Vibrant neons strobed in painful colors that Loki had to squint at. Strange synthesized music blasted over a sea of bodies. To make matters worse even as Loki watched a heavy fog hissed through the room though none seemed to care. It caught the colors and lit smokey purple.

Letting his eyes adapt for a few moments, Loki squinted past the chaos. The Grandmaster was not hard to spot as his troupe sat above the rest of the rabble. Not waiting for instruction, Loki beelined for him before his mind attempted to sabotage this.

When the Grandmaster saw Loki his eyes lit up, reflecting the purple strobing light. “Ooh,” he hummed appreciatively, eyeing Loki like a cut of meat. “Very good! My tailor outdoes themselves.” Leaning forward, Grandmaster lowered his voice. “Though it being on  _ that _ body helps.” He laughed as Loki smiled. “You want a drink? My treat.” He bounced up, hand slipping to Loki’s back almost instantly.

Throwing his finest smile, Loki kept careful tally of the contact. “That would be delightful.”

“Darling, how do you always have the right answer?” With a sigh that sounded almost dreamy, the Grandmaster plucked a yellow glassed drink from a passing waiter. He held it out with a teasing smile to match the one Loki had been perfecting on him. “Gorgeous.”

The hand on Loki’s back moved to his right shoulder blade as the Grandmaster swayed with the music, drink in hand.

Falling into step, Loki watched the drink. It was another debt on the list of things the Grandmaster had given him, the list of things to be paid off.

But there was no saying no, not now, Loki knew that. So he took it.

The Grandmaster’s other hand tweaked his chin before settling against his neck. Leaning into the touch, Loki ignored how the fingers tingled against his bare skin.

The alcohol tasted fruity and its chill buzzed through Loki. “My most gracious thanks.” The Grandmaster merely watched him appreciatively. Aiding that venture, Loki brushed back some of his hair and watched the crowd as they swayed, loosening his posture. His free hand he draped across the Grandmaster’s shoulders. The acts were easier than paying mind to the warmth he felt at the Grandmaster's obvious appreciation.

He scanned the crowd, though always kept half a thought for the Grandmaster, who hadn’t moved his gaze from Loki, only growing hungrier with every passing step. From among them Loki observed how dancers moved in a looping pattern, curving a safe- but still tight- distance around them creating a sort of chaotic asymmetry.

None of this phased the Grandmaster, who continued to watch him with a smug smile. “I like the hair. You do those braids yourself?”

“I- yes. Yes I did.” The warmth of the complement surged through Loki before he could warn himself against such things. It’d been long enough since his efforts to appear presentable had been noticed in such a way.

“Good with your hands.” The Grandmaster commented almost offhand before falling back into silence. While the Grandmaster’s hands didn’t stray from their safe- and modest- spots they did tighten. Loki felt the scrape of nails digging ever so slightly into his neck. 

It raised goosebumps. Loki widened his smirk. To which the Grandmaster raised an eyebrow, clearly delighted.

Behind the Grandmaster, the sea of bodies parted. Startled looks crossed the strange faces in the crowd. Curious, Loki looked for the source. Nothing yet had managed to cause such a commotion.

Noting his distraction, the Grandmaster turned. “Mmm?”

It was the Grandmaster’s golden doll who, soon as she spotted him beside her master, hurried her pace through the crowd. 

“Ah… I see.” The Grandmaster sounded dry.

She stumbled in her eccentric heels as she reached them. “Master, I-” Clearing her throat in, she stood tall. That she managed to look calm despite her clear desperation was more than Loki had expected from her. “I was not told of this party, my many apologies for being late.”

Glancing briefly at Loki, the Grandmaster smiled at her with barely concealed condescension. “Ah, Kira yes I  _ forgot _ to tell someone to fetch you. Glad you- uh-  _ found _ us.”

She nodded diplomatically, though Loki noted how she barely breathed. “No need for  _ you _ to apologize, master.” Loki knew groveling when he saw it.

Her desperation made his chest tighten despite his triumph; it was all too familiar.

The Grandmaster seemed to harbor no such pity. “You know, Kira… you were delightful, a real go getter.”

Past tense; Loki saw her go still.

Parting the crowd, the Grandmaster’s second in command appeared. She held some strange contraption.

On instinct, Loki shied from it. And so did the woman.

“Great fashion sense,” the Grandmaster continued languidly, immune to the way the woman squirmed. “Really good dancer, too. I admired that. Pretty, obviously. But… ah-” he clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Just… sometimes things don't work out. It's not  _ your _ fault, really.”

The crowd had taken note of what was happening with their ruler. Though the strobing lights and music still gave the room energy, the dancers had gone still. A circle had cleared around them.

The Grandmaster's second held out the contraption towards him. Taking it, the Grandmaster shook his head, shrugging. “These things happen.”

“Master,” the woman- Kira- started. She approached him, dropping to her knees. “I can make it up to you. You-” she glanced to Loki and it was then he saw just how deep her terror ran.

He couldn't keep her gaze.

“You can't trust him- I--”

“ _ Hush _ ,” the Grandmaster silenced her, sounding annoyed for the first time. “Kira, don't be like this. I mean- do you really think I'm just leaving you for some pretty boy?”

Swallowing hard, Loki looked to the Grandmaster. That was exactly what he meant to do,  _ wasn't it?  _ Or perhaps Loki had miscalculated,  _ perhaps _ \--

Kira put a hand on the Grandmaster’s knee, drawing closer. “Master-”

“Oh, clearly you do.” For a long moment, the Grandmaster seemed to consider her. Then he split into a smile and laughed. “I guess you're  _ right _ .”

Loki released the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Too relieved to be insulted.

A second later, the Grandmaster twirled the contraption in his hand and pointed it at her. With a hum it shot a strange energy and she recoiled, collapsing back into the cleared circle made for them. “Master!” Loki watched her skin begin to bubble and smoke. “Please!  _ Please!”  _ She was  _ melting _ .

Mouth going sour, Loki turned away much as he could without breaking the Grandmaster’s hold on him. He couldn't escape her sobs, though. Nor the hissing of melting flesh. Nor the smell that made him gag.

When it was over, Loki hazarded a glance back. There was a puddle on the floor. 

Beside Loki, the Grandmaster sighed. “Topaz, have someone clean that up. And take this.” He handed off the weapon to his second, who disappeared into the crowd. “What a mess.” Shaking his head, he turned to Loki and his smile returned. “Sorry about that. Hope it didn't spoil the mood.” He clapped his hands and turned to the party. “Why are we stopped?”

With a hurried commotion, the dancers returned to the norm as servants swooped in to clear the mess. Within moments all appeared as nothing had happened.

With that, the Grandmaster’s last doll was gone. Erased.

Loki barely looked at the Grandmaster. He couldn't quite shake Kira’s expression as the weapon struck her. It felt like his own skin bubbled and an uncomfortable prickling set him on edge. Though he’d escaped Sanctuary it suddenly felt all too close. This wasn’t the Titan, but the Grandmaster was something close. He’d let himself fall into near complacency. That was a mistake. And he couldn’t make mistakes.

His actions always seemed to have the most lethal consequences for all but himself.

“Darling?” The Grandmaster pressed a thumb up Loki's neck.

Jerking back to awareness, Loki leaned further into the touch without much thought. He’d known he danced between life and death. But he hadn’t guessed just how thin the wire was. It seemed to grow thinner with every passing moment. “Apologies.” Before the muttered word even left his mouth, he knew it was the wrong thing to say.

Quirking his lips to a frown, the Grandmaster squinted at Loki. “Do you think I- ah- want an apology?” 

Smothering his nervousness, Loki let a passing waiter take his empty glass. The alcohol that warmed his stomach was no help with the anxiety kindling a headache in his temple. He couldn't afford mistakes. They had to be fixed. Leaning forward as they swayed, Loki met the Grandmaster’s eye. He didn't like what energy he saw there. “I think you’re aware of what I know of your wants.” It was a bolder statement than what Loki was comfortable with. But he needed a gamble.

For a long moment, the Grandmaster held his gaze, eyes shadowed. Then, sudden as his mood swings always seemed to be, he laughed and smiled. “ _ Ooh _ ,” he breathed, “I do, doll.” The hand that stroked Loki's throat moved to his jaw, tracing it lazily.

Swallowing past his ill fated warmth at the touch, Loki let his eyes flutter shut in a practiced look of contentment. He hummed a low note. Perhaps, if he was quick enough, he could worm out of this corner.  _ If not-- _

In between a flutter of eyelids, Loki saw the open lust of the Grandmaster.

Shutting his eyes tight, Loki swallowed hard.  _ Norns, please--  _

“My doll, open those pretty green eyes.” The way the Grandmaster's voice rung of a command made Loki shiver. Heat rose to his cheeks despite his best efforts. “You like that, doll? Like when I tell you what to do?”

They were moving faster now, spinning to a quick beat. But Loki barely noticed. It would explain how his stomach turned; at least, was a safer explanation than anything else. Following the command, Loki opened his eyes and managed a smile. “Do I?” A small voice in the back of his mind told him there was no getting out of this-  _ might as well enjoy yourself-  _ it hissed. He ignored it.

Hand straying further up until a warm thumb ran across Loki's lips, the Grandmaster’s grin turned predatory. “I think someone's avoiding the question.” They were spinning faster, faster. Loki's head spun. “Answer it.” With the words, Loki's back slammed hard against a column and the wind was knocked from him. He had barely a moment to recover before the hand that had been on his shoulder grabbed at the inside of his thigh and squeezed. Loki gasped as his stomach lurched. The Grandmaster pressed in closer. “You do. Tell me.”

Realizing he was pinned, Loki’s mouth went dry. He had to answer but-- The Grandmaster’s hand slid further up his thigh.  _ Oh, Norns.  _ “I- yes. Yes I do,” he managed, face hot. At his words, the Grandmaster’s hand stopped its creep but didn't fall away. Glancing at the party around him, Loki searched for an exit, any way out of this.

The only faces he saw turned his way were the once friends of Kira. And they were deeply unfriendly.

With a horrible twist that had nothing to do with the way the Grandmaster was currently stroking the spot on his thigh, it stuck Loki that he was just as alone as he had been on Sanctuary. And exactly as vulnerable.

“Yes who?” Starting up his approach again, hand sliding ever further, the Grandmaster leaned in closer. The thumb that had toyed with Loki's lips fell away. “Who am I to you, my doll? Tell me.”

“I- ah-” Loki stammered, feeling like an idiot as his mind went fuzzy. The heat that warmed his face was joined by a pit coiling in his stomach. Gritting his teeth as the Grandmaster’s hand reached its destination, Loki searched desperately for the right answer. “Grandm- m…” the word, when he realized it, stuck in his throat. But the Grandmaster growled in his ear and pressed harder against him. The sensation made him nauseous even as his heart skipped its rhythm. “Master.” He saw the Grandmaster’s eyes flutter shut, absolutely delighted. “ _ Yes _ , master. I- do,” he swallowed past a dry throat. 

“Oh,  _ good _ .” Releasing him, the Grandmaster muttered in his ear approval that sent a shameful thrill through Loki. The Grandmaster's breath was hot on Loki's neck. “My doll, you're so flustered. I like that. It's adorable.” Loki flushed deeper.

He  _ loathed _ this man who was not even a man. He'd tear the creature’s throat out with his bare hands for this.

_ And yet-- _

Loki felt the Grandmaster’s lips brush against his jaw. “Kiss me.”

There were a hundred eyes on them. Loki felt each one like a knife in his back. “I-”

“Did I say protest?” Loki flinched, going cold but returning too quickly back to hot shame. “No, no I didn't.  _ Kiss _ me.”

_ Oh Norns. _

He complied, skin hot and crawling. The Grandmaster’s lips were soft and tasted of oversweet alcohol. Loki didn't have much time to muse on that, as the Grandmaster grabbed him and leaned into the kiss, tongue snaking into Loki's mouth. Heart thumping loud in his ears, Loki let him. Chills ran up his neck. Unable to breath right, Loki heard himself groan a shaky sound and felt the wave of shame hit him a second later. But he couldn't draw away.

When the Grandmaster did pull back, it was with an obscene wet noise and a satisfied sigh. Stroking Loki's face, he smirked. “I've been wanting to do that since I laid eyes on you, gorgeous. You don't dissapoint.”

Clinging to a tight smile, Loki leaned heavily against the column he was pinned to. Standing upright seemed a difficult venture at the moment. “And isn't it all the sweeter for the wait?” He dared not look anywhere but the Grandmaster. 

“I told you we’d fix this problem of yours, didn't I?” Laughing, the Grandmaster eyed him like a starving wolf. “Yes, yes I did.” He sounded entirely proud of himself; it turned Loki's stomach. “I didn't pick you for such a  _ sensitive _ ,” the Grandmaster's hand strayed downwards again and Loki flushed anew, unsure if he hated his body or the Grandmaster more, “little thing.”

Loki spun a quick reply. “I suppose your intuition can only go so far.” It was clumsy, but his mind didn't seem to be cooperating properly as the Grandmaster's nails scratched against the leather at his thigh.

“I've got to give myself some surprises.” Sounding uninterested in speaking any longer, the Grandmaster leaned in again. He brushed his lips against Loki's before dropping to Loki's neck and latching on.

Goosebumps returning as the Grandmaster worked the skin, Loki hissed a breath and threw his head up to the ceiling. The warmth that had been pooling in his guts twitched. He was in over his head, even his body betrayed him. It was wholly unfair.

Leaving a sensitive red mark on Loki's neck, the Grandmaster growled in Loki's ear. “I could have you right here.” Loki gulped, dread panging in his chest. “Yes, I could tell you to get on your knees and please me. And you'd do it. Because I  _ ordered _ . You'd look  _ so good _ doing it, too.”

Loki hardly dared breath as he glanced at the crowd. The mental image made him flush uncomfortably.

Voice softening, the Grandmaster pressed a quick, wet kiss against Loki's cheekbone. “Who neglected you like this? Absolute travesty. All that blush you’ve got going on is ridiculous. Even if it  _ is _ hot.” He sighed a breath against Loki's cheek. “Quivering like a… a leaf all because of a few words. That's… mmm- gratifying. All the better for me. I like you, my doll.”

Quelling the desire to bury his face in his hands, Loki nodded and tried to breath steady. But the Grandmaster’s hand still lingered on his upper thigh, toying with him cruelly.  _ Might as well enjoy yourself _ , the thought prodded at him. “Do you now?” His voice shook ever so slightly with every uneven breath.

Smiling like a cat, the Grandmaster chuckled. “Wouldn't have picked you if I didn't. Wouldn't have made you  _ mine _ .” The word made Loki shudder. “I wanted you. And I always get what I want. Call me master again. Say it.”

“Master,” Loki repeated quickly; the word made his mouth sour.  _ And yet--  _ Then the Grandmaster’s hand grabbed at his crotch, working hard against him, and Loki let out a groan loud enough to make him want to melt away as he jerked into the rough touch. The heat that pooled in his guts twitched again, building.

But no, not there,  _ not yet _ , he needed control. He couldn't-- he had a plan.  _ Stick to the plan. _ Wrestling for himself, Loki threw himself forward and kissed the Grandmaster hard, letting himself be desperate and hungry and overpowering and everything the Grandmaster wanted as they pushed off the column. His hands skittered down the Grandmaster’s body, fluttering and nervous.

After a moment of surprised stillness, the Grandmaster reciprocated. Loki barely heard him snap his fingers as they tilted backwards. But then he was falling and for a brief second Loki felt fear.

The couch was there, the Grandmaster upon it, and Loki straddling him. His master’s teeth scraped against his lower lip. Unwilling to give up this power, Loki shoved him against the couch, one hand pressing down on his chest and the other grabbing hold of the soft cushiony material and digging in.

Making a filthy sound into Loki's mouth, the Grandmaster let him.

High on triumph, Loki forced himself to lean in deeper. These were his terms.  _ His _ .  _ He _ had control. This he could work with; this he could shape to his will. And if it felt… good-  _ better than good _ \- then so be it. Nails digging into the couch, Loki felt the Grandmaster’s fingers loop into his hair and tug.

Loki barely registered the broken moan that sounded as his own. It was obscene.  _ This _ was obscene. He couldn't even begin to count the number of people that could be watching. That could see- could hear--

At his hesitation, the Grandmaster hissed “don't stop, doll” impatiently.

Redoubling his efforts, Loki banished his worries. What mattered was that he was in control. As long as he had that he was safe.

Safe,  _ ha _ .

One of the Grandmaster’s hands freed itself and grabbed at Loki's back, hitching him closer so that they rutted together. Loki felt, with a twist of his gut, a hard pressure slot against his ass.

Searching for a distraction despite how his body urged him otherwise, Loki hazarded a glance around. The crowd stretched out around them.

With a twitch of his seidr, he flung a glass from a waiter’s plate to shatter against a hulking thing’s head. Between his master’s sucks against his lower lip, Loki watched the creature turn and scream at another man, almost as big. Before long fists flew as they screamed at each other. He gurgled low into the Grandmaster's lips, pulling away briefly. “Master,” he tried to croon the word, “I believe there is-” The Grandmaster’s fingers slipped into his mouth, catching his tongue in a way that made Loki gag involuntarily, panic spiking through him.

Pulling back, the Grandmaster frowned at him. “Darling, you're rather  _ chatty _ . I know you've got a talented tongue but I can think of a better use for it than  _ talking _ .” Tongue still held painfully firm, Loki jerked his head towards the fight, scarcely breathing. The Grandmaster turned and sighed. “Oh.” Looking annoyed, he nudged Loki off of him, something Loki was grateful to do, relieved as his tongue was released. “Where is Topaz? She should…”

The music screeched to a stop as the fight toppled the electronic… Loki had heard the term DJ used. Without it, the party was filled with dead air.

Massaging his forehead, the Grandmaster stood. “We can't have that.” He smiled at Loki, placating and promising in equal measure. “I'll be right back. You sit tight, doll.”

As the Grandmaster turned away Loki thought briefly of fleeing. Of running and hiding in some dark corner. But this was Sakaar, there were no dark corners, just harsh neon.

Fully aware of the heat still pooling in his guts, Loki sucked in a shuddering breath and leaned back against the couch. He could make this work. He could usurp the Grandmaster eventually. He could-- “I’m going to die on this planet.” Dropping his head to his hands, Loki didn’t move until he felt the Grandmaster’s hands ghost his neck.


End file.
